


Peter's Tale

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Dark, Identity Porn, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Violence, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Peter is seven and visits the Stark Expo, Mister Stark takes advantage of him. Peter grows up keeping this a secret.





	Peter's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Tony is high as balls and molests Peter when he's seven at the stark expo. Peter keeps a secret. Tony never reveals he's iron man, and Peter really likes Iron Man. Shits lit. Also, before y'all start telling me im a pedo for shipping starker, i'm a 19 y/o girl that was molested when i was 12 by my uncle and cousin so fuck off. I also ship starker in the non-rapey way.

Age 7

To go to the Stark Expo was all Peter wanted to do when he was seven years old. Aunt May somehow saved up enough money to finally _finally_ take them. While the Stark Expo was seen as a high end event, the tickets themselves weren’t all too expensive these days. Tony Stark believed that science should be accessible for _everyone._ The Stark Expo was mostly non profit, charging just enough to pay the employees and keep the lights on.  

But seven year old Peter didn’t really understand all that or care even. He was finally going to see _Tony Stark!_ He loved Mister Stark more than he loved his own aunt! Okay maybe not but he loved Mister Stark a whole lot.

Peter sat upon Aunt May’s shoulders, idly chewing on his thumb as Tony Stark pranced around on stage. He showed off a new Starkphone, a hovering car, _and_ a mini arc reactor that the average middle class American could afford _and_ install. But Peter was too far away to really see anything. He wanted closer to Mister Stark!

Peter whimpered and wiggled until Aunt May put him down. The moment his little feet hit the ground, he took off running in his light up sketchers. Since he was so tiny, he could easily squeeze between people’s legs. Aunt May was yelling in the background but seeing Mister Stark was much more important. Peter eventually squirmed up to the front railing, whining as he was squished against the cold metal. But the end of the stage (and Mister Stark!) were only a few feet away.

And Tony Stark was looking at him! His pretty brown eyes were locked right onto Peter and it made him feel so _special_.

Tony Stark walked to the end of the stage and smiled, holding his arms out and turning his mic off momentarily. The show was over, anyways.

“Gimme that lost little boy,” he yelled to the security staff. And suddenly Peter was being lifted up and over the security rail and handed to Tony Stark.

Tony situated Peter on his hip, turning his back on the crowd and handing his microphone to a nearby assistant. “What’s your name, little boy,” Tony asked quietly, ignoring the screaming fans to duck behind the backstage curtain. He could tell that the little boy was absolutely star struck. Perfect.

“P-P-Peter,” the kid stuttered out, gripping at Tony’s suit and watching the man with his big, beautiful brown eyes. Tony Stark kept smiling at him, opening another door and shutting it tightly behind him.

“Mister Stark, I-“

“Peter, do you wanna see some cool science?”

“Yes!”

“But you gotta keep it a secret, okay? No one can know that I showed you this.”

Any thoughts of anything other than _science_ instantly left Peter. He was dumped unceremoniously onto the leather couch in the room. Other than the couch, there was a small table and a TV playing some adult show that Peter didn’t pay attention to. It was sorta dark in this room, with only a lamp on and deep burgundy walls.  What he did wanna pay attention to was whatever Tony was hiding behind his back.

Tony sat down beside him and smiled innocently. He watched Peter watch him for a moment before he breathed out and said softly, “Come sit in my lap, Peter, and I’ll let you play with what I got for you, okay?” Thinking nothing of it, Peter eagerly climbed into Tony’s lap. Tony was sweating like crazy, even if the room was chilly. The genius just kept smiling at him, his pupils so big it almost covered up his entire iris. Just a sliver of honey brown stared down at Peter as he was presented with the newest Stark tablet.

Peter’s hands grabbed the tablet and he squealed in excitement. Tony’s warm hands were rubbing up and down his soft, creamy thighs.

“Shh, just look at the science,” Tony whispered to him when Peter made a quiet whine.

 

The hands traveled up, fingers sliding into Peter’s pants and playing with his _privates_. But if Peter said anything, Mister Stark would take the fun new science toy away! Tony’s fingers slipped under the waistband if Peter’s pants, even sneaking underneath Peter’s undies.

He felt Tony’s sweaty hands on his crotch, grabbing at his penis and rubbing at it. He whimpered again, clutching the tablet tight enough that his knuckles turn white.

Peter’s eyes remained solely on the tablet in his hands, trying his best to forget the weird feeling in his stomach. Aunt May always told him to tell her if someone touched him in his private area. However, Peter _really_ didn’t want to have to put down the tablet and all it’s bright colors.

He felt his penis starting to get hard, the weird _throbbing_ sensation returning. Tony was watching him closely, leaning forward and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his neck. Peter tried his best to ignore it because _science_ but…

But something was..happening?

“Mister Stark,” he whined, “Mister Stark, I gotta pee! I have to pee!”

Mister Stark laughed quietly and whispered, “No...no you don’t. Just relax, kiddo, just shh…”

Peter whined again, losing focus on the bright colors of the tablet to look up at the spinning curling fan. All his muscles bunched up, and it felt like his body was trying it’s best to cope with the new sensations.

Something that could’ve felt good if it wasn’t for all the confusion pumped through Peter’s small body as he experienced his first (dry) orgasm.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice came in a haughty whisper, “Peter look at me, baby.”

After a moment, Tony’s hand came up to gently lift Peter’s chin so they were staring eye to eye. And then Tony’s head came forward enough to…Peter felt his face scrunch up as Tony forced his tongue into his mouth. He didn’t like this anymore. He _never_ liked it but now it was-was-

“Don’t say nothing, shh, shh, just look at the tablet, baby boy,” Tony soothed, grabbing Peter’s hips and making his little body move back and forth. The back and forth and back and forth went on for a few minutes before Tony suddenly moaned loudly and went completely lax. Something wet and _warm_ filled up Tony’s pants and was still pressing against Peter’s backside. He whined uncomfortably, his butt still being gripped tightly by Mister Stark.

This felt so...so _wrong_ . He knew he should say something, yell maybe. But...but Mister Stark was just so _good._

Peter dropped the tablet and gasped in shock when the door behind them opened. Mister Stark didn’t really seem to care.

Peter practically scrambled off of Tony’s lap as an assistant said, “We found his parent, sir.”

Peter’s watery eyes widened and he cried out, “Aunt May!”

A minute later, Aunt May came rushing in, picking Peter up and holding her nephew close to her chest. “Oh my god, Peter,” she sobbed, turning her back on Tony and quickly walking away. Peter wiped his eyes on Aunt May’s shirt and watched as he was carried away from Tony and his wandering hands and soft voice. It’s okay, it’s all over. Tony couldn’t hurt him anymore.

 

Age 10

If his sudden dislike towards Mister Stark made Aunt May suspicious, she didn’t say anything. But Mister Stark was still all over the news and magazine covers with _bigger_ and _better_ and

_“Wanna see some science, Peter?”_

Peter curled up in his bed, clutching his stomach and clenching his eyes shut. The nightmares started a few days after that night. They happened at least once a week.

But Peter knew he couldn’t tell anyone. No one would believe him, anyways! All Peter had was his word. There was no evidence, no way to _prove_ that Mister Stark had put his hands down Peter’s pants and put his tongue in his mouth and-and-

Peter jumped out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He spit up in the sink and wiped the vomit from his lips. Oh god. Oh _god_. He felt terrible. Peter ran the sink for a while, listening to it drain so it would cover up the sound of his soft crying. He’s cried on the bathroom floor many times and never woke Aunt May.

It’s better this way. No one would believe him.

The next morning, Peter watched terrorists destroy Tony Stark’s Malibu mansion. When Aunt May went to change it, Peter dropped his spoon into his cereal and said loudly, “No! I wanna...I wanna watch.”

Aunt May gave him a look from the couch but otherwise put the remote down and watched with him.

A red banner with the words “Tony Stark missing, likely dead” slid across the screen. Peter felt the weight on his chest lift and he found himself smiling into his next bite of Lucky Charms.

_He’s dead_ , Peter thought to himself, taking another bite, _Oh thank God he’s dead_.

“Peter?”

He looked up from his breakfast, “Yes, Aunt May?”

Aunt May got up from the couch and walked over, sitting across from him. “Peter, you know you can tell me anything, right,” she asked, folding her hands in her lap and fiddling with her wedding ring.

Peter nodded silently.

“So I’ll only ask you once...did anything happen that night at the Stark-“

“No.”

Peter dropped his spoon again, watching it splash into his milk and soggy Lucky Charms.

“No. Nothing happened. He just let me play with a Stark tablet while he waited for his assistants to find you.”

_“You gotta keep this a secret, okay?”_

Aunt May gave him another look before she smiled and reached out, holding onto Peter’s empty hand. “I love you, Peter,” she said softly, “Please..you know you can come to me for _anything._ ” Peter forced a small smile, and he said quietly back, “Love you too, Aunt May. An’ I know. If anything would have happened...Tony probably would’ve died that night instead of this morning.”

God it felt so good to say that Tony was _gone_.  

A few days later, Peter met Ned and Tony Stark made his triumphant return.

 

Age 12

Tony Stark was still everywhere, and Peter was still having nightmares. There was a _poster_ of Mister Stark in his math class for fuck’s sake.

His teacher really loved Mister Stark. It was really easy to be in love with him. Mister Stark funded the Avengers and paid for everyone’s projects at MIT and kissed babies!

_“Peter...Peter, look at me, baby.”_

Literally kissed babies. 

Peter and Ned walked side by side on their way to school, passing a store with Mister Stark playing on TV. Ned looked at Mister Stark like he hung the moon.

“Isn’t he just _so cool_ , Peter? I wanna work for Stark Industries when I grow up!”

What right did Peter have to take that happiness away from Ned and his teacher and everyone else on planet Earth? Tony Stark was loved by millions of people. Peter couldn’t ruin everyone’s favorite celebrity by coming out and accusing Mister Stark of molesting him.

No one would believe him. And it’s not like Aunt May could afford all those lawyers anyways. And Peter would have to miss school to go to court and testify and…

“Peter?”

How long had Ned been calling his name?

Peter shook himself from his daze and looked over at Ned, “What?”

“I asked if I was still coming over tonight. I’ll bring our favorite LEGO set!”

Peter forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah, yeah of course! But we better hurry to school, or we’ll be late as _fuuuck_.”

Ned’s jaw dropped, shock evident on his face, “Peter! You just said-“

“I know but we gotta run before we miss the bus!”

That night, while building a LEGO Millennium Falcon, Peter looked up at Ned through his eyelashes and caught himself staring. Ned seemed to have caught him, too, and Peter felt his cheeks blush and he quickly looked back down at his LEGOs. Every time he looked at Ned, his chest would beat a little faster. He got little butterflies in his tummy. He was always so _excited_ to see his best friend and-

Oh. Peter paused rummaging through his building pile for a second.

He had a _crush_ on Ned!

Peter chewed on his bottom lip, feeling the guilt starting to sink heavy into his stomach. It all made sense. But it felt…

It felt _wrong_ like Mister Stark’s hands on his inner thighs. He remembered the scratch of Mister’s Stark’s goatee against his soft baby skin. He couldn’t make a move on Ned now or anytime soon. What if he made Ned feel like _he_ felt? What if Ned couldn’t say no? What if...Was this how Mister Stark felt?

Ned wouldn’t know that what they were doing was wrong. He’d just go along with it like Peter did. And taking advantage of Ned’s ignorance would make Peter just as bad as Mister Stark.

Peter stood up suddenly and wobbled a little bit as all the blood rushed to his head.

“I have to use the bathroom,” he forced out, before practically running into the restroom. He locked the door behind him and turned the fan on. He splashed some water on his red face and practiced breathing like he read on the internet. He couldn’t tell Ned about his sick perversion. Ned would think he was _gross_ like Peter thinks Mister Stark is gross. He would _never_ be forgiven. Peter will certainly never forgive Mister Stark.

It isn’t fair, Peter thinks as he clutches the end of the sink. Why would he have to be burdened with this? Why couldn’t he have been molested by a cousin or something- someone that he can tell Aunt May about.

Except Peter didn’t know if he has any cousins and he felt even _more_ sick for thinking about it. Mister Stark had poisoned his entire body- blackened his soul. He’s disgusting, no good, a shame that needs to be buried under NDAs and he needed to _calm down_ before Ned comes knocking. Peter frantically wiped his cheeks and splashed more cold water on his face. 

He wet a few pieces of toilet paper and held them under his eyes to make the red puffiness disappear. After a few minutes and deep breathing, he knew that all signs of him crying were gone. How many times has he done this?

Peter looked at himself in the mirror and exhaled slowly. He’s not gonna let anyone know. No one can suspect anything is up.

Peter dries his face with the towel that’s hanging up before he opens the bathroom door and goes back to his room, where Ned is just finishing up their LEGO masterpiece.

 

Age 14

The spider bite happened on a field trip, and of course with _great power_ comes _great responsibility_. Peter designs his own web fluid and web shooters and his senses dial up to eleven.

His nightmares get worse, but he helps as many people as he can when he can’t sleep. He’s stopped muggings and assaults and countless of other crimes by the time Iron Man finds him. Iron Man is Mister Stark’s bodyguard, and Peter is pretty reluctant to talk to him at first. They sit on a building while the sun sets in front of them, Peter with his legs hanging off the edge and Iron Man standing beside him. They’ve both agreed to not reveal their identities for one reason or another.

Iron Man is wickedly charming, funny and humble and _so sweet._ He’s noble and strong and warm like the sun and how could Peter _not_ fall in love with him?

Peter doesn’t know how old Iron Man is, but he’s certainly older than fourteen. No matter. He’s accepted that Mister Stark has fucked him up so bad- has broken him so fundamentally that he can’t even be with people his own age. At least adults know what they’re doing is perverted and gross.

Peter patrols the edges of the tallest building in Queens sometime around midnight. He had another nightmare about Tony’s forked tongue and red eyes and claws fingertips grabbing at his spider suit and revealing his identity to everyone.

“ _Look,” Tony had hissed, pulling back Peter’s mask and revealing his crying face to a room full of reporters, “It’s the Spider-Whore!”_

He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his arms to warn off the nightly chill. Patrolling the neighborhood always made him relax, let him know that he was safe and so was everyone else. At least while the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was around.

He heard Iron Man’s suit before he saw him fly around the corner. Iron Man seemed to see him, too, because he came to an abrupt stop and landed next to him.

Iron Man stood a few feet away and asked, “Can’t sleep, kid?”

Peter didn’t really wanna talk about it but he also _really_ liked being around Iron Man so he shrugged and said over his shoulder, “Nightmares.”

Iron Man started to walk beside him, his heavy looking suit actually making only a small amount of noise, “Same here, Spider-man. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Understandable.”

Peter closed his eyes tightly behind his mask and stopped to really _look_ at Iron Man. His suit was the classic red and gold, all warm tones and a soft voice behind the speaker in his helmet. Peter couldn’t help but smile a little behind his mask.

“Are we...friends, Mr. Iron Man,” he eventually asked after fifteen minutes of silence.

Iron Man laughed behind his helmet and said, “Of course, Mr. Spider-Man. I like to see myself as sort of your...mentor. I’ve been saving Tony Stark and fighting with the Avengers so I figure you could use some pointers in this whole superhero business.”

Peter hoped his enthusiasm didn’t show through his mask, and he just nodded while inside he couldn’t be happier. An _Avenger_ thought he was worth saving. That meant more than Iron Man probably realized. Someone as holy as Iron Man could certainly save his bastard soul.

“Thanks,” Peter said softly, kicking a rock off the edge of the building and watching it tumble down.

“I think I’m gonna go back home now, my head is pretty clear,” he said, waving goodbye at Iron Man before webbing home.

A week later, on a warm Saturday evening, Iron Man was caught up fighting some big ass sewer mutant on the streets of Queens. Peter rushed into his spider suit and made a mad dash for Iron Man’s location. Thank God Aunt May was at work.

The monster was huge and fucking stinky as fuck. Peter gagged as soon as he came into range, trying to breathe through his mouth but _goddamn_ he could taste how bad this thing smelled. “Hey, Iron Man,” he yelled, swinging to a stop beside his favorite Avenger, “Do you need some help?”

Iron Man turned to look at him and seemed to think for a moment before he yelled back, “Yeah, sure. Just keep your distance and try to web it up.”

Just keep your distance and web it up. Iron Man didn’t want him hurt. Understandable but Peter wasn’t a little kid! He could easily just-

Pain blossomed in Peter’s chest as the creature’s scaly tail hit him across the midsection. His webbing didn’t break his fall and Peter landed flat on his back. He felt the air being pushed right out of his lungs. Oxygen wouldn’t come back to him and he desperately clawed at the ground, coughing so hard he was gagging and what little breath he _did_ have was being pushed out with each wrecking cough.

The Quinjet darted across the clear sunset sky and Peter’s blurry vision. Oh god this was…

The worst.

He heard Iron Man calling his name, heard Captain America calling Iron Man’s name as the sound of boot repulsors came closer. Iron Man landed with a _thunk_ beside him.

“Fuck your own mask is suffocating you, kid,” Iron Man hissed, getting down on one knee and gently cradling Peter’s head in his metal hands. Peter was pretty unresponsive at this point, limp in Iron Man’s hands and giving a little cough now and then.

It was only his super healing keeping him conscious and breathing, now.

“Cap, I gotta- He has a secret identity but I need to get this mask off so he can breathe I just-“

Peter didn’t hear anything after that, but he felt Iron Man pick him up and take off into the air. Peter’s eyes opened just in time to realize they were going into the now empty Quinjet parked on a nearby rooftop.

Peter was laid on one of the seats (it smelled like perfume and the deodorant that Aunt May uses- has to be Black Widow’s seat.) He must’ve passed out from lack of oxygen between that and Iron Man taking his mask off because when his eyes opened-

He felt someone’s scratchy goatee on his face, breathing into his lungs and helping him regain his breath.

“ _Look at me Peter…”_  

Peter gasped and started pushing at whoever was on him, letting the guy know he was alive and well. He heard Iron Man stumble back a little and Peter’s eyes focused in on-

Tony _fucking_ Stark.

Iron Man had his helmet off, and staring at Peter with his pretty brown eyes.

Iron Man _is_ Tony Stark.

The world, this safe space, starting crumbling around Peter. He could practically hear the sound of his hopes and dreams shatter in in his chest.

It felt like his whole body had been dunked in ice cold water. Nausea built up in his stomach- worse than when he went on the Cyclone with Ned and threw up everywhere.

Iron Man- _Mister Stark-_ must’ve seen his expression, his pale face, because he quickly said, “You can’t tell anyone- my identity is a secret too- please just keep this a secret. Not even the other Avengers know please, Spider-Man-“

“ _You gotta keep this a secret, okay?”_

_“Shh...Shh just focus on the science, Peter.”_

And Peter realized his mask was off, too. He felt the AC of the Quinjet in his hair, felt the sweat rolling down his temples.

Whatever else Mister Stark said was blocked out because Peter was scrambling for his mask. Mister Stark saw his face and _didn’t remember._ He didn’t remember. How could Mister Stark just... _not remember_.

Of all the things Peter dreamed of doing when he was in Tony Stark’s presence, the only think he could think to do was panic. This wasn’t what he planned.

He thought maybe he’d yell at Tony or...or doing something that’s not- _not_ this!

Tony reached out and touched him, grabbing his flailing arms and saying gently, “You’re having a panic attack, Spider-Man, you need to calm-“

Peter finds his voice and pushes Mister Stark again, yelling loudly, “Get off of me!” He feels so powerful! Tony stumbles back a little and before he can say anything, Peter is slamming the button that opens the Quinjet and he’s out of there.

As soon as Peter crawls in through his window (after making sure Iron Man isn’t following him) he ditches the Spider-Man suit in the back of his closet. It’s stuffed deep underneath winter coats and slams his closet door shut. He turns around and climbs under his blankets, wrapping them around himself like a cocoon of warmth and safety

Iron Man was so...so _great_ and it turned out to be Mister Stark the whole time? That meant that Mister Stark was Avenger, and Avengers are the holiest, most pure out of all of them.

Was Captain America- Steve Rogers- a child molester too?

Peter hid his face in his pillow and shuddered out a sob. There was _no way_ that Captain America could have hurt a little boy like Mister Stark hurt him.

But no one would suspect Mister Stark, either. Peter sobbed into his pillow until he heard Aunt May coming home.

He pressed more wet paper towels underneath his puffy eyes to hide it even more before he collects himself and opens his bedroom door when Aunt May calls his name.

Over the next few days, Peter feels himself slip into deep, unending depression. The hopelessness swallow him like a sticky, black wave. Peter couldn’t keep his head above water and he didn’t care. The inky blackness just pulled him deeper and deeper down but whatever.

Nothing mattered anymore. Iron Man- amazing, warm, angelic Iron Man _was_ Tony Stark. Tony Stark- the man that had made Peter’s life a living hell since he was seven years old.

Peter stayed in his room mostly, eating too little and sleeping too much. Getting to school was a struggle. Paying attention was even worse.

Everything slowed down to a molasses pace, but that was fine with Peter. Fucking nothing mattered anymore.

Not friends, not his sleeping schedule, not Spider-Man. _Everything_ has been tainted by Mister Stark. At this point, Peter didn’t _want_ to die but...it wouldn’t be an inconvenience. He let his grades and his life slip through his fingers and Peter just couldn’t come up with a single fuck to give. Everything happened in a gray haze, barely reaching Peter’s eyes and ears. He quit talking to Ned for the most part, casually denying invites to come over or do homework together.

He came home from school and went directly into his room, mostly to play with his computer or stare blankly at the ceiling. Patrolling the city as Spider-Man was not going to happen anymore. What if Iron Man found him? Wanted to _talk_ to him?

Peter couldn’t bring himself to want to say anything. He’s kept it all inside for so long...what difference would it make now?

Peter kicked a rock that was innocently minding its own business on the sidewalk on his way home from school. He heard it _thunk_ against a car and fuck, if that left a dent he was gonna feel like shit. Looking up, Peter’s eyes caught a gleaming silver Audi parked outside of his apartment building.

Aunt May was _very_ far off from being able to afford to live in a neighborhood where seeing the newest Audi was a common thing. Maybe someone had a super rich uncle coming to visit?

Peter saw the dent on the side of the door where the rock had hit the car. He felt kinda bad, but he was poor and didn’t have any kind of money to fix it. Besides, if the person was rich enough to own an Audi, they were rich enough to be able to afford to fix a little dent.

 He shrugged and turned to enter his apartment building, climbing the steps two at a time.

The door was unlocked quickly and he pushed it open. “Hey May,” he called, seeing her on the couch in his peripheral vision. She smiled at him from the couch and asked, “How was school?” Peter put his backpack down on the kitchen table and shrugged, “It was okay.”

He walked around into the kitchen and around the corner to-

His heart dropped into his stomach and familiar, cold panic washed over him.

Tony Stark waved at him from his couch, with a black eye and drinking tea from a big cup. “Oh, Mr. Parker,” he said, with a wicked smile, putting his tea cup down and-

“Uhm,” Peter mumbled, slowly reaching up to take his headphones out, “Wha-What-What are you-Uhm...I’m-I-I’m Peter.”

Aunt May and Mister Stark must’ve taken his panicked mumbling as excitement rather than cold fear because they just kept _fucking_ smiling at him.

Mister Stark knew where he lived, now. Hunted him down like a hungry wolf and now Mister Stark was going to eat him alive in his _own home._ Nothing was sacred, nothing was safe. This was it.

Peter felt himself starting to hyperventilate as Tony kept talking. Something about emails and grants and that was all a fucking lie.

Mister Stark’s smile stretched wider as he said, “Isn’t that right, Mr. Parker?” Peter nodded dumbly, managing a breathless, “Yeah,” as he tried to get his brain working again. Mister Stark was _sitting on his couch,_ drinking tea _with his Aunt_. There’s a few more words exchanged over Peter’s head before Mister Stark said, “Can I get five minutes with him?” Aunt May’s smile never falters and she said, “Yes, of course!”

At least Peter knows that Aunt May doesn’t know _anything._ That’s a good sign, at least. Even if he’s following Mister Stark into his bedroom.

The door shuts and clicks _locked_ behind them. Peter’s heart is beating in his ears and he’s watching Mister Stark with a pale face and sweaty hands. Mister Stark just...doesn’t remember. He’s staring at Peter like _he’s_ the crazy one. But Peter doesn’t recall molesting a seven year old boy.

He clears his throat as Mister Stark starts poking fun at his old computer.

“What are you doing here,” Peter said, feeling his lip curl in disgust. He’s caught between scared shitless and so angry that he could throttle Mister Stark right then and there.

Mister Stark sits on the edge of his bed and shrugs, “You’re Spider-Man. I need your help.

"Have you ever been to Germany?”

Peter opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He can’t…

The panic quickly overtakes the anger and Peter can’t feel his fingertips anymore. All the colors in his room blend together and he feels the tears welling up in his eyes. Holy mother of _God_ Why can’t he breathe? Why can’t he get his words out? Why can’t he-

Tony’s hands are on his arms, his face, whispering, “You’re having a panic attack, Peter, you need to calm down.”

_“Just look at the pretty colors, Peter. Just relax. Shhh…”_

Mister Stark’s thumbs are wiping at his cheeks, and Peter feels Mister Stark pull him into a crushing hug. Peter just hangs limp, his eyes glazed over and not particularly focusing on anything. The monster in his nightmares is grabbing at him, shushing him, telling him to _not tell anyone_. Peter can’t breathe so he can’t talk, not until Tony rubs his warm hands down his back and-

Peter remembers feeling those hands touching him seven years ago but he won’t let it happen again.

The strength comes out of nowhere and he violently shoves Mister Stark back. The man stumbled backwards, before tripping over some bullshit on Peter’s floor and landing on his ass.

“I hate you,” Peter says between clenched teeth. He can still feel the tears coming down his cheeks but it feels so _good_ to get those words out. He takes in another deep breath and forces his voice to not raise so he won’t upset Aunt May, “I hate you so much, get the fuck out, I hate you I hate you- you need to get the _fuck_ out, Mister Stark.” Oh god he’s slipping. _The secret_ is gonna come out any minute now.

But Mister Stark obviously doesn’t remember the worst night of Peter’s life, so Peter can’t tell him. Mister Stark wouldn’t believe him, he would wanna take Peter to court and drown Aunt May in debt. He _has_ to get control over his emotions. And quick.

Mister Stark has a dumbfounded look on his face, but he puts his hands up in surrender and finds his footing.

“I understand that me lying to you about my secret identity-“

Yes, yes that’s why Peter’s angry. He’s mad because Mister Stark lied about that. Not for anything else because nothing else happened.

“-but I _really_ need your help and I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll leave my card here. I have a passport made for you already, just...call me within the next few hours if you change your mind. Okay?”

Peter nods, even if he doesn’t agree. He just wants Mister Stark _out_ of his room. 

Mister Stark unlocks the door and leaves, leaving his business card on Peter’s nightstand. 

As soon as Peter hears the Audi outside start up, he wishes he had kicked a thousand rocks at it. 

Two hours later, Peter picks up his phone and calls Mister Stark back. It would be too suspicious if he declined. And Mister Stark promised to get him a full upgrade, which Peter knows he desperately needs. Mister Stark could probably build a suit that will keep him warm in the winter and cool in the summer and make hitting the ground hurt a whole lot less.

After a few rings, Mister Stark picks up.

“Peter?”

“I’ll go to Germany with you, Mister Stark.”

 

Age 15

After getting back from fighting Captain America, Peter kept up his charade of Tony Stark’s cute intern. He patrolled every other night, until a few weeks after his fifteenth birthday and Mister Stark invited him down into his labs. To work on some _science_.

Peter foolishly agreed because, just like when he was seven, playing with Mister Stark’s technology was well worth the risk of being… 

The elevator dinged and FRIDAY politely informed Peter that he has arrived in Boss’ lab. The doors slid open and Peter stepped in, looking around with wide, brown eyes. He felt a smile creeping on his face, even as he saw Mister Stark hunched over a piece of the Iron Man armor.

Peter sat down next to him and said, “Hi, Mister Stark. Whatcha workin on?” 

Even if Tony had...hurt him in the past, maybe he was different now. And it’s not like Tony Stark was _ugly_. There were plenty of boys and girls his age who would love to get Mister Stark’s hands between their thighs.

Peter leaned against the work table, watching Mister Stark’s hands work. The man finally put his tools down and breathed out heavily.

“You’re eighteen now, aren’t you, Peter?”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Right.”

Peter tilted his head a little bit, “Why ask, Mister Stark?”

Tony didn’t reply for awhile before he took off his work goggles and set them aside. He turned his full attention to Peter and swiveled in his workshop chair so they could be face to face. Tony was sweating bullets, his hands were shaking a little. Peter’s stomach started to clench up, his hairs stood on end. His spidey-sense alerted him of immediate danger in the back of his head. It was pushed down, however, in favor of giving Mister Stark an innocent look. 

“Stop me anytime,” was all Mister Stark said before Peter was being pulled into a soul-crushing kiss.

_It’s happening again,_ Peter thinks to himself as Mister Stark’s hand slips underneath his shirt. He has the power to stop it this time but…

It’s not like anyone would believe him. Mister Stark doesn’t have cameras down here. And it doesn’t matter, anyways. Peter’s kept it a secret this long. It doesn’t matter.

Peter’s eyes slipped shut and he forced himself to kiss back. No one would believe Tony Stark was molesting him, anyways. Might as well make it look consensual if they’re ever caught. He wouldn’t want it to look like Mister Stark would ever be capable of _raping_ someone.

Because he wasn’t.

Iron Man was good and pure and Mister Stark _was_ Iron Man so Mister Stark had to be good and pure, too.

Peter gripped onto Mister Stark’s shirt, feeling Mister Stark’s hands on his ass and being pulled into the older man’s lap.

“Shh,” Tony whispered at him when Peter whined loudly, “Just, shh, baby.”


End file.
